When You Believe

What always makes me have moments of self reflection are songs that strike just at the right moment. I put on my pump-up playlist to basically jump around in my pajamas, a slower song came on that caught me off guard.

"When You Believe" from The Prince of Egypt slowly played from my computer as I listened to the words to calm my racing, excited heart. The lyrics hit me square in the chest as I began to realize something. Something big. I've written a lot on my personal struggles with my ADHD and academics in my many posts, with the most recent one being Thunderstorms of Life (http://emmalinerose1863.blogspot.com/2014/11/thunderstorms-of-life.html), but despite all the battles and moments of self doubt, I have prevailed.

I beat every single obstacle in front of me this semester. Even when I was afraid, when I didn't know what was going to come next, when I felt like I was going to be swallowed by my thesis, my school work, my own anxiety and worry, I prevailed. I pushed myself to the utmost physical and academic limit. Even when I sat with Bobby's arms wrapped lovingly around me as I cried helplessly, wondering how I was going to make it to my next assignment, I made it. If I was falling asleep, instead of beating myself up, I went to bed and woke up early. Even if that meant getting up at the earliest of 4:45 AM, I did it. I worked endlessly and guess what? It paid off.

My thesis was sent back today. My topic was on fraternization across the Rappahannock River after the Battle of Fredericksburg and ironically, it was sent back on the 152nd anniversary of the battle. I was so nervous to open it that I called my twin sister. I needed someone there with me while I opened it, but I still wavered whether I should open it right then and there.

"Emma, just open it. It's okay." The voice of reason from my twin sister comforted me as I clicked it open.

I got a B+. I went up an entire letter grade from my first draft. Oh. My. GOD. After feeling so lost, struggling through so much and fighting against countless odds, I achieved a higher grade that I had anticipated. Do you know how amazing that feels?! The battles you fought against yourself were a victory? That you put your boxing gloves on every day and fought it out for a win??

Now we are not afraid

Although we know there's much to fear

We were moving mountains

long before we knew we could

Wow. That's all I really can say. I knew that in the end, I would make it. I held onto that moment of hope that "this, too, shall end." I believed in my ability to make it through, in my ability to write and have an analytical argument. Was it perfect? Of course not. But where is the fun in perfect?

There can be miracles

When you believe

Though hope is frail

It's hard to kill

Who knows what miracles

You can achieve

When you believe

Somehow you will

You will when you believe

You can make your own personal miracles on your own when you believe in yourself, in the supportive, incredible friends, family and co-workers. Even if it's just a little one, like getting a good grade and surviving a brutal semester, it still counts as a miracle. And when you have a little miracle, it feels incredible.

To everyone who helped me through this last semester, I truly appreciate the many moments of reassurance and support that helped me push through my many moments of self doubt. I couldn't have made it without you.

~E

The Theory of Emma

Last week, Bobby and I went to go see The Theory of Everything and it was an incredible movie. At the beginning, I was feeling a bit of guilt for dragging my lovely significant other to ANOTHER movie that he didn't particularly want to see. But by the first quarter of the movie, we were both totally sucked in. It is a movie following the lives of Stephen and Jane Hawking through Stephen's debilitating motor neuron disease similar to ALS. It was such an emotional roller coaster, but there was one scene in particular that just struck me square in the chest. It was so powerful that I had to wrap my arms around myself to keep me from sobbing. They say when you ponder upon a memory, it's as though you're reliving it. And that's exactly what happened.

It was a scene at Stephen's celebratory dinner for getting his PhD from Cambridge and while all his friends are laughing, smiling, drinking and eating, Stephen is struggling to lift his spoon to his lips less than an inch away. As the camera comes in from his angle, he focuses on everyone's normal behavior, moving with ease as he struggles. When asked if he needed help, he refused and excused himself from the table. While watching this scene that's less than 4 minutes long, I was thrown back to the winter of my Junior year of high school. I stood in my kitchen with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The scent permeated the house, tickling my nose as I stood over them. My tongue danced around  behind my banded teeth. My mouth started to water, and all I could do was swallow all the aching pain of wanting to sink my teeth into the warm, gushy goodness. I grabbed one, just to remember what it felt like to hold real food in my hand. I 'opened' my mouth and tapped it against my my splint.

Tink tink tink.

I couldn't taste it. I couldn't even feel it on my teeth. The overwhelming sense of hurt and anger I felt at not being able to have a normal face at that moment flared into hatred as I watched my family bite into the cookies. I wanted to change everything in that moment. I wished everyone could have felt my pain, just for a fleeting moment so they could understand, like Stephen Hawking wished his friends could understand.

Now, I don't tell this story to be all dark and negative about the God-awful pain I suffered from my TMJ. From physical pain of years of unanswered prayers and endless pleas to my doctor to just "cut me open. Take it out, make it stop" to the psychological pain of going to school with my mouth wired shut, all of it seems so far away from now. That experience changed who I was, built my strength and showed me that I could handle the overwhelming. I could handle the moments of pure hardship where others would have broken down. I felt like I didn't eat for 9 months. There were moments where I would rather go hungry then have to grind up my food, walk into the lunchroom late with my bowl of pasta. The same pasta I would eat every. single. day. But the most beautiful thing about it is that it's over. I made it. I made it through two surgeries, 4 sets of braces and not being able to eat to now have the face I have today. They said I wouldn't be able to speak by the age of 25 if my face continued to deteriorate. Now I'm 22 and talkin' just fine, much to many people's dismay. ;)

Today, December 9th, is the day that I finally became pain free. But it's not just any "jawversary". It's been 5 years. FIVE YEARS. To think that it's been that long and that I have been blessed with a pain free life for 5 years... it truly feels like a miracle. I woke up this morning and yawned. I brushed my teeth, put some lipstick on for the special occasion. I laughed with my honey as I danced around in my excited state. I will eat a big lunch with multiple cookies because guess what?

I am pain free.

To Dr. Mark Allan Piper and the Piper Clinic in St. Petersburg, Florida, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I started seeing Dr. Piper when I was 14 years old. He has seen me grow up through high school, suffer immense pain and go through all sorts of changes. He was dedicated to find a solution and his staff was dedicated to keep me positive in the face of overwhelming odds. And in the end, everything worked out for the best. I cannot put into words what Dr. Piper means to me. With his handlebar mustache and soft demeanor helped a frantic child get out of her personal hell.

Here's to you, "jawversary", and to many more to come.

Thunderstorms of Life

I think, at least once, people question what they are doing with their lives. Am I headed down the right career path? Am I headed in the right direction? What's going to happen to me in the next ____? Well, apparently senior year of college is the best time to have this thought overwhelm you as you write your final capstone for your major. Right?

WRONG.

But of course, I am asking this question because let's face it, my struggles seem to slap me in the face every school year around the final half (or even quarter) of the semester. Things are getting tough, my want to do my classwork is fading and all I keep thinking is how great it's going to be when it's all over. But what's going on now?

I'm right in the middle of my senior history thesis. It's the final class and final paper that ties up my history degree in a nice little bow for graduation. Of course, I jumped into the Civil War seminar to try and feed my interests but now I feel like I'm pushing against my returning brick wall of "I can't do this. I'm not as good as everyone else. Why can't I be like everyone else?"

I've talked a lot about my ADHD and my struggles in the classroom on this blog. Even though ADHD is a joke in society and I really push to view it in a positive light, I secretly find myself hating it. Hating myself, hating the people around me who function on a level I could only DREAM of and hating the fact that I'm hating it. Even with my new methods of working and attempts to get my life in order, I cannot change the fact that I do not work like everyone else. I jump around from topic to topic. Things are not in chronological order with me. I have thoughts that burst like strikes of lightning when all I need is "an electric current". Being a historian is clashing with these difficulties, making my every day battle even worse.

My rough draft of my thesis was due and I can honestly say, I have NEVER worked as hard on any other school assignment in my entire life. I have spent days, literally, DAYS doing research when usually I can only stand a few hours. Archives are lonely and quiet. It's just you and your work. For me, it's basically torture. I have stared at a computer screen with words bouncing around in my brain, begging to come out onto the page yet I still reconfigure them over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

 But I fought my way through it and gathered over 100 sources (I'm not kidding...) and now have so much to say...

But how do I say it?

Trying to put my scrambling thoughts on paper in a "coherent narrative" has proved extremely difficult. No matter how many outlines, drafts, re-reads and speech re-writes I have done, I can't seem to get it down. When asked what I mean, I speak my answer better than I write it. But when I write what I speak, it loses its strength. If I can't even write a freaking paper, how in the world am I going to become a Civil War historian? Granted, I'm going into Public History, something that seems more suited to my brain wiring. But what's going to happen when I have to write an exhibit display in a museum? Or an all day tour of a battlefield? How in the WORLD am I going to do that when I can't even get my thoughts in order NOW?!

Long story short, I'm overwhelmed. I'm defeated and I'm frustrated. I listen to others debate around me and have historical discussions that I've started dropping out of. Why? Because my confidence seems to have fizzled out. I find myself questioning, like I have done in the past, why I decided to go into history. Have I doomed myself to a career path that I can't handle? What's going to happen if I can't make it?

Why is everything going wrong?!

Great ADDitudes has also fizzled out, making it extremely difficult to carry it on by myself. Sure, we've had some interest but not a lot of active participants. Not from the college, my friends, even me. I didn't even go to my own meeting last week because I couldn't face another empty classroom for something I've worked really, really hard on. Am I not understanding the world around me like I should? Is there some secret that I just can't find? Because let's face it, I'm different. My brain isn't a constant electrical current. It's a slow brewing thunderstorm with a few strikes of brilliance and then... rain. Lots and lots of rain.

I'm trying to find the beauty in the lightning but right now all I see is the wrath of a curse. I'm hoping within the next few days some time with my family will clear up my stormy sky. But for now, I let it rain.

Muhammad Ali On This ADHD

I haven’t written in a while, which probably shows the craziness of my life right now. Senior year is always the busiest, with looking at grad schools, senior thesis, classes and now for me, starting up a brand new club on my own.  I have been running around in circles trying to get Great ADDitudes off the ground and we finally have a date for our first meeting. September 24^th at 7:30 pm. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to see how many people will show up (who aren’t going just to support me, really.) Because of the delicacy of this topic, the College has been rather stand off-ish right now until we see how many people are interested or even comfortable with coming forward with the fact that they have ADHD. But what happened to me today makes the fire in my heart flare higher to make a difference in the ADHD community. I want people to be comfortable and never put up with statements like,

“You have ADHD? I NEVER would have guessed!” *laugh*

Today, I ran around Gettysburg College putting up 20 posters for Great ADDitudes. I have worked extremely hard on not only making it welcoming but also serious enough to get some members. I had made a list of all the places I wanted to hang them, I imagined how I was going to tape them up and pictured people walking past them, feeling defeated after a class or ashamed that they had forgotten their homework, again and see the little beam of home in the shape of a poster welcoming them into an understanding community. To say I was excited was an understatement, but as I was hanging them up in one of the academic buildings on campus, an acquaintance spotted me taping them up. I happily showed them my poster and I started to say how excited I was to change the College community for the better when this person started to chuckle.

“You have ADHD? I NEVER would have guessed!”

I was stunned. My answer was quick and a bit of a joke of how yes, I do have ADHD and it shows in EVERYTHING, but then I was filled with a sense of shame. I was ashamed that it showed everywhere. How could they have picked up on it? Was my hiding techniques not working?! WAS IT THAT OBVIOUS?!

Note to whoever is reading this: Don’t ever say ANYTHING about ADHD to someone who struggles with it. No joke, no comparison, no nothing. Don’t. Do. It.

Even now, hours after this happened, I am mixed with a sense of shame, guilt and overall, embarrassment. My room is a mess. I have 4 water bottles on my desk, all of which have at least some water still in them. My floor is covered in clothes and there is some homework that is nagging me in the back of my head. But the knot in my stomach of disgust for myself and how much my hard work over the past few months has been for nothing because it was THAT OBVIOUS that I have a problem. That thought is keeping me from focusing. I’m tired. My medication has worn off and I want to cry. However, I still have that beam of hope.  I still have Great ADDitudes. I want to let the world know that our preconceived notions on ADHD are wrong. There shouldn’t be statements like this being said to people who struggle and battle every day of their lives. There shouldn’t be jokes, or difficulties to get needed help with medications and counseling because of how abused the disorder is. I want to bring that to light. I want professors, staff, college officials and the entire college to change their view on ADHD. I work hard, desperately hard to stay on top of things. I have done everything in my power to work with myself and sometimes hey, I miss a step. I stumble, but at least now I don’t fall and crawl up into a ball. I don’t become paralyzed and although tonight, I have accepted the fact that I am upset. That I probably won’t be as productive as I should be, I know tomorrow will be a reset. I will wake up with the sun, take my medication and have a relaxing morning to review the books I read while thinking about/writing this blog. I will go through my check list and cross things off. And guess what? There is nothing wrong with that.

If anyone at Gettysburg College is reading this, know that you are not alone.  You are not the only one who struggles. You are not the only one who cries because you feel like you have failed because your medication wears off before you want it to. You’re not the only one who struggles to stays focus. You’re not the only one who sees the spiraling colors of life and blossoms of creativity. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

So be like me. Let it all out. Cry a little. Write a little. But get up the next day and fight for yourself. I put my boxing gloves on, take a deep breath and go Muhammad Ali on this ADHD.

Great ADDitudes

I'm a senior in college.

Wow. I can't believe how easy that was to type. Before the summer started, I was petrified to be a senior in college. One more year before the "real world", but also one more year to succeed. One more year to push myself and get some results to bring to graduate school. I am planning on going to grad school, but not before I make my mark at Gettysburg College. Not before I do something I've wanted to do since I was in 6th grade. 

I have a learning disability. It's taken me a long time to be able to say that because of fear. Fear of being made fun off, laughed at, people being skeptical and saying that I'm either overreacting, I'm just plain lazy or stupid. I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Yup, the one that everyone makes jokes about. "Aw man, I totally have ADD." Or the one that makes doctors worry about giving medication to college students who need it to keep track of their academics because these medications are some of the highest abused substances on college campuses. It's a constant battle with myself to stay on my game but also a constant struggle against a society that either overcapitalizes ADHD or doesn't truly understand it. However, having a learning disability in an academic setting makes studying, doing homework, doing research, even reading a simple book difficult. It has taken me three years at Gettysburg College to realize that hey, it's okay to struggle. Understanding and working with my struggles is the way to succeed, not pushing them out and fighting the fuzz. I've been so successful since I've switched my mentality over from ignoring it to working it, so why can't I share this with the world? With the College?

When I was just diagnosed, I felt very alone. I was the only one I knew that got to have special 'candies' that helped keep my mouth from being dry when I first started medication. I was the only one who couldn't keep my desk straight, who always had a notebook and pencil just in case a story idea popped into my head. But was I actually alone? Was there anyone else struggling like I was?

I asked the school counselor if we could start a ADHD support group. I was only 11 or 12, so the idea just kept coming back over and over. I wanted to start a support group somewhere. But just as my blog post "Scatterbrained" (http://emmalinerose1863.blogspot.com/2013/11/scatterbrain.html) says, I let my ADHD go and handled it as best I could. When I got to college, everything changed. I felt alone again. Overwhelmed by classwork, homework, even socializing! I couldn't handle it all until I decided to go back on medication. It completely changed my life. But freshman year turned into sophomore and junior year where my symptoms began to come back and I felt lost. I couldn't handle everything. Instead of changing, I froze. But was anyone else feeling like this? Was there anyone else that struggled like me? Why couldn't we all come together?

This is when my support group called "Great ADDitudes" popped into my head. I had recently followed and signed up for ADDitudes at http://www.additudemag.com while I was in England to try to get my life back under control. I was amazed at how the little things, some occasional changes impacted my life. I was better organized. I got my work done. I even felt included.

 I wasn't the only one.

Going to a private liberal arts college is hard, especially one that advertises as a "highly selective" one. The pressure is high, the workload can feel overwhelming, but guess what? You're not alone! Students with learning disabilities need to know that they are not alone. There are others who are feeling the same way. And why not bring them all together? Why not share our stories? Discuss differences and possible solutions together. How cool would that be?

So I've already started the process of "Great ADDitudes", a student group at Gettysburg College for students with ADHD and other learning disabilities open for support, discussions on symptoms and treatment ideas but more importantly, a place for students who struggle every day to come together to feel welcome and supported. No one should feel embarrassed or ashamed of having a learning disability. They should feel welcomed and supported.

Any Gettysburg College student that happens to read this, come support your fellow students. Learn about what it's like fighting "the fuzz". Let these fellow classmates know that they're not pushed aside, forgotten or even disregarded by others. 

 We're all Gettysburg Great, even with something ADDed

Too Much

It has been an interesting summer. My last blog post brought me home from England, so I guess it is fitting that this one will probably bring me home from my internship with the National Park Service. Being my third internship, I can honestly say it has been tough. I’ve pushed myself harder than any other summer to work hard and research extensively, but I’ve also tried to form myself into a future park employee. Anyone who knows me knows how much I want to work for the NPS, but I find myself perplexed about a problem I’ve had since I started three summers ago.

I’m too excited, too enthusiastic and I need to rein it back.

I can honestly say I am a very happy person. I smile a lot, even when I’m struggling. I find time to laugh even when I really, really don’t feel like laughing. But with a giggle and a rumble inside my chest, it loosens the grip of negativity that sometimes seems too tight. When I get really excited, I know I talk a mile a minute. I sometimes get loud, I’m constantly smiling and at some points, I want to jump up and down. I literally have to keep my feet on the floor.

A perfect example of this would be my overwhelming excitement at the National Museum of American History. I was enamored with the methods of interpretation, presentation of facts and the way they worded everything so carefully. When Bobby and I finally went into the “America in War” exhibit, I could barely hold still. The stump from the battle of Spotsylvania Court House at the Bloody Angle was on display somewhere in the Civil War section and I couldn’t wait to see it. As we continued through each era, I could tell I was getting on Bobby’s nerves. Space grew between us; he’d walk away from me as I blabbered on about something I found interesting or exciting (which, in all honesty, was almost everything). I kept wondering why everyone around me was just walking through with blank expressions. No emotion or reaction. Yet here I am, almost bouncing off the wall in exhilaration! I finally asked Bobby why he was annoyed and his answer made sense. “I’ve never known someone to be so excited about everything and anything. It’s just a little overwhelming sometimes, that’s all.”

 What is wrong with me? Why am I overwhelming?

As I look back at my life to try and find the moment I had my switch, I remember the agonizing years I spent hating my life. Many people don’t know that I suffered from horrible TMJ/jaw pain for almost 6 years. When I was 15 years old, I used to sit and cry in the back of my church alone, praying to God to take the pain away. The muscles would rip, inflame until my vision was blurred. I couldn’t eat anything that required me to chew unless I risked the grinding of bone that sliced into my cheek bones and down my neck. I would slowly open my eyes in the morning for school and in those few moments before my body stirred awake, the pain would be silent. My head felt disconnected from my body and I fought the urge to smile. But in fighting that urge, a muscle would twitch and begin to spasm, causing the whole process over again. I missed day after day of school. I lost weight. My eyes plunged into deep purple circles as I tried every day to cover them up with makeup. But no amount of makeup could cover the agony I endured. It became so bad that I frequently imagined what it would be like if I tore my jaw off from the hinges. The soft flesh right under the curve of the jaw bone could easily be hooked, right? I could just take my thumbs, curl them around my mandible and tear it off. Men returning from the Civil War, WWI and WWII lived without the lower jaw, so why couldn’t I? I could live again if it was gone. My personal hellhounds couldn’t gnaw at my bone once it was gone. I could throw it for them to catch. They could drag it back to hell while I began my life again. I didn’t need to speak, I just needed to be pain free.

December 9^th, 2009 will be a day I remember forever. 

I was given a second chance at life. I could still be living in this pain, begging God to take it away or take me away. There were times where death seemed better than living like this, but I felt the need to find an answer. Make it to the days where the pain would be gone and I could live again. And today, yesterday, tomorrow, are all those days.I was finally released, let go from the moment I awoke from the surgery. It was gone, no more pain, no more suffering. Even through the recovery and the taunting laughs at my garbled speech, I was pain free. I didn’t care how much they laughed. All I cared about was being pain free. Those years of wanting and praying and begging for it to be all over changed me.

I am excited to live because I know what it feels like to want to die.  I understand the feeling of wanting to rip your hair out because there is no answer. Yet every day has its own blessing. The days where my medication worked and I could sleep with my face completely relaxed, the muscles loose from the relaxer. The days where milkshakes tasted so good, even with the triple dose of protein powder in it. How good it felt to have a full stomach after watching everyone around you bite into their lunches, their cookies and chips. How beautiful it is to hear a visitor play taps in the National Cemetery as everyone around you stops to listen. How a moving statement sparks a child’s interest. There are so many little blessings, little miracles every day that I am so happy to experiencing. I am excited to live, to breathe, to taste, to smile, to laugh and to talk about what I love. Many people say I talk too much, and sometimes I do. But just know that when I talk too much to you, that means I want to enjoy my blessing of being able to share my passion with you pain free, without the fear of having my face tear to shreds within a few moments after our conversation. I’m taking advantage of my life, my pain free, beautiful life. Every life is beautiful, so why not enjoy it?

Some say I’m too overwhelming, too excited, too much. But when is one life time enough? I am going to enjoy everything to the fullest and encourage others to do so.. I may be super energetic and super enthusiastic, but I’ll take it over who I was before. I may have to learn to transfer this excitement into other channels, but I will never lose it. It’s a part of who I am and who I want to be. Living positively brings so much joy and who doesn’t want joy in their life?

~E

Week 12: I'm Coming Home

I can't even believe I'm sitting here writing this. It's impossible, right? Of course it is. I couldn't have possibly spent my entire semester in England this quickly. I still have a few weeks, maybe even a month, right? RIGHT?

Nope. A week from tomorrow, I'll be jumping on a train to Heathrow Airport in London, getting on a plane to return to the United States-- home.

I've struggled with this definition of home, something I've addressed in my Writing from the Self class this semester. When I moved from my childhood home two years ago, I wasn't actually there. I had a rare and very honorable internship that usually didn't go to Freshman. Welp, it went to me and I needed to make a choice between starting that internship on time and go through the required training OR move with the rest of my family. I chose my internship, which at the time was a very, VERY good thing. I needed the training for the short run. But for the long run, I really needed to be home with my family, saying goodbye to my past life and helping pack up everything. It's something that still haunts me today. I dream of my 'old' house, the items I feel are still in there. I dream about the new owners and having them give me a tour of their projects. One time, they let us inside their beach house. It literally was a multicolored, Jamaican styled, jacuzzi in the top floor house. I couldn't believe it, but it felt nice to wake up knowing that didn't happen. I did not go through my old house.

With my many internships over the last few summers and constantly moving from my college housing to park housing to now a flat in England, I've realized that home is where I make it. I define my home, whether it be in a dungeon like basement flat or a kinda scary house built in the 1960's in the back woods of a battlefield. But home also has love. Lots of it. But not just family love or romantic love, but friendship love and self love.

I've had three out of the four here in England. In the past few weeks, I've grown so close to the girls upstairs and in the program, and I truly regret not getting to know them and spending time with them sooner. I've battled with my fear of friends and making friends, and I've grown so much more comfortable in my own skin. I threw a surprise birthday party for my boyfriend that was a huge success! He had no idea, everyone kept it quiet and we had a great time. I've gone out to dinner in Stratford with these lovely ladies, basically ransacked a castle while in Stratford and enjoyed every second with them. I haven't tried to be someone I'm not. I've joked around, opened up and even admitted to crying to these girls and guess what--- they're still here!

It's been such a blessing to meet every single one of them, and I've already told many of them that I want to drag them back to Gettysburg with me. I want the friendships I gained here to come back to school when I return next Fall. Even with all of us returning to our prospective schools, I hope we'll still see each other at some time or another. Facebook is a beautiful thing that I'll still be in contact with these girls. Thank. God.

Self love was something I wasn't necessarily searching for when I came abroad. One of my professors back home told me before I even made the decision to come abroad about his experience in London when he was an undergraduate. "You learn so much about yourself when you get lost in the depths of London and have to figure out your way back without a map." He said, and I laughed at the story, but didn't get the underlying message until I got here. Stepping out of your comfort-zone, getting lost, trying new food, a new technique in a class or even a new argument. I've struggled and pushed through, I've achieved success and relaxed about the little things and even admitted to my learning disability, which was HUGE. I've hidden it for so many years that it was painful to me to even write it down on medical forms. Why?! Today, I own it. I own who I am, but it's not just from my own reflection, but from the help of others. "You're so enthusiastic, Emma. I love your positivity! You're so sweet! We missed you when you weren't there!" are only some of the statements I've gotten that have stunned me. R-really? You missed me? ME? Wow. I guess I'm alright then, being me. I've been happier in these last few months than my entire Sophomore year and half of my Junior year in college. I'm not overwhelmed with stress and feeling defeated. I feel alive, thriving and full of energy. It's wonderful.


Romantic love has had it's ups and downs this semester, but we've made it. It's been an extremely difficult time on that front, especially with the death of his best friend. Our identities were shaken, who we were as individuals was changing and becoming something we needed to address. However, I'm proud of what our relationship has become in these last few months.

At first, I wondered if it was a bad decision to come abroad with Bobby. But now, I know that it was one of the best decisions of my life. We have gotten so much closer, growing into the people we want to be together. But not as a 'WE', but as a 'YOU' and 'I'. Even though we're together, we still can stand on our own. The staff of the program, now that the semester is over, has joked with us that their fear of us being "THAT couple" who were sucked up into each other all the time. They now admit that that fear was blown away by the first week. No relationship is perfect, but it can be healthy, working and loving. I've helped Bobby through a major loss and a huge paper he threw himself into while he helped me battle my disorganization and my push to change my academic lifestyle. Through both our tears and our laughs together, we came out the other side of this semester more in love with each other on a whole new level. Our understanding of how the other thinks, feels, and reacts is stronger. I wouldn't trade it for the world.



Now for the family love. My God, I cannot even describe to you how much I want to go home JUST to see/be with my family. If  I could bring them all to England, I could stay here for a while. But the fact that I haven't been able to communicate with them as much with the time difference and technological barriers makes me want to get on that plane now. I have hit that point where I've gotten terribly homesick. I miss my parents, my little sister and especially my twin. My wonderful, spunky, cool twin that I wished every time I went out or had friends over, she was there. She would have loved being here, so now I'm ready to be there. It's time to go home.

England, you were the best decision I have ever made. I've learned so much about myself, the world around me, other people and my love. I am truly thankful to everyone at ASE and Gettysburg College that made it possible for me to come to this program. It's been life changing. Bath has officially become one of my 'homes' but now, I think it's time to go.

I'm coming home.